


Our Definition of Perfect

by crackdkettle



Series: The Better Version 'Verse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: the First Avenger, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-08-06 00:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16378343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackdkettle/pseuds/crackdkettle
Summary: A collection of random and self-indulgent drabbles, one-shots, and missing scenes from the 'A Better Version of Our Past' universe.





	1. Mister(s) Director Carter

**May, 1954**

Seven years on, Bucky’s less hands-on at the Forge than he was in the beginning: partly because it’s a lot harder to personally train a group of a hundred and fifty than of fifteen; partly because it turns out espionage training involves a lot of paperwork. He still pops up at the drills once or twice a day, and is the regular lecturer every Monday afternoon, but the primary training is done by Morita and the other instructors. It’s the best thing about his job, and Bucky’s eternally grateful to Peggy for placing him here and not in the field.

He’s even less involved in the spring training cycle since he always misses the first six weeks while he’s out searching the Arctic with Howard. The only drawback is that by the time he turns up the cadets have become comfortable at the Forge but aren’t used to seeing him. It invariably makes for his most unpleasant encounters every year.

His first morning back he braces himself for the stares as he approaches a line of cadets waiting for inspection. He can see Morita in the distance, so he slows a little, even though he’ll inevitably have to pass the cadets before Morita reaches them. Still, it’ll make the encounter shorter at least.

“Sir!” bursts out one of the cadets, a baby-faced brunette who must have only just turned twenty-one, as Bucky starts to pass by. “Aren’t you” — beyond her, Bucky sees Morita speed up slightly, ready to intercept the question Bucky hates most — “Mr. Director Carter?”

Morita stops dead. Bucky meets his eyes over the cadet’s head; Morita’s lips press firmly together as he desperately tries to suppress a laugh.

“Yes,” says Bucky, fighting back his own smile. “That’s exactly who I am. Although around here I go by Agent Barnes.”

“Right,” says the cadet, flushing. “Right, sorry, sir. I just think Director Carter is so incredible! Is it true she took on a dozen Hydra operatives singlehanded?”

“Cadet, I’m going to save us some time and tell you now that everything you’ve heard about Director Carter is true,” says Bucky. “And if it isn’t, it’s only because the real story is more spectacular.”

“Wow,” the cadet breathes. “Why’d she marry _you_?”

Morita bursts out laughing as the cadet goes red again. Bucky somehow manages to keep a straight face, but it’s close.

“That’s what the rest of us have been asking for _years_ ,” says Morita.

“Even legends aren’t infallible,” says Bucky, which is maybe a little closer to the truth than he’d like. “What’s your name, cadet?”

“Witkowski, sir, Sylvia Witkowski.”

“Well, Cadet Witkowski, I’ll be keeping an eye on you. With Director Carter as your example, I expect you to go far.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, somehow standing even straighter. “Thank you, sir.”

 _Huh,_ Bucky thinks as he leaves Witkowski and the rest of her squad to Morita’s mercy. _Mr. Director Carter._

Not _that Howling Commando_.

Not _Captain America’s friend_.

_Mr. Director Carter._

Yeah, he can get used to that.

\-----

**April, 1958**

Technically Bucky’s not back at work yet — he and Howard only returned home yesterday — but Steve had some kind of prep to do at the base, and Bucky wanted to go over a few things with Morita, so here he is. He’s spent the day successfully hidden in his office, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to make it to the car without running into at least one training squad. His only hope is that none of them will recognize him.

It’s a hope that’s dashed when he encounters a cluster of cadets (must be a rec period; he should have timed this better) as he’s about two-thirds of the way to the parking lot. He sees the dawning recognition on a couple faces as the cadets automatically salute him.

“Sir,” they all say, not quite in unison.

“Cadets,” Bucky murmurs with a curt nod, not breaking stride. Steve’s coming around the side of a building about fifteen yards away. If Bucky can make it—

“You’re him, aren’t you?” exclaims one of the cadets, evidently unable to contain himself. Bucky sighs and reluctantly begins to turn back when the cadet adds, “Mr. Director Carter? I mean, you’re the director’s— that is, you’re Director Carter’s—”

Bucky catches Steve’s amused gaze.

“I used to be,” he says, taking pity on the stuttering and bright red cadet; he jerks his head in Steve’s direction as he adds, “Now he is.”

“Holy shit,” the cadet breathes as Steve moves into his line of sight. “Captain America!”

“Mr. Director Carter is fine,” says Steve seriously. “In fact,” he adds, meeting Bucky’s eyes, “I think I prefer it.”

Bucky grins.

“Me too.”

“We have to go. We’re taking our kids to a baseball game,” Steve tells the now speechless cadets, placing a casual hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Give Agent Morita nothing less than your best.”

“Yes, sir,” the cadets chorus, still goggling at them.

“You’re not helping with the rumors when you say shit like that, you know,” Bucky says in a low voice as they make their way to the car, Steve’s hand still resting comfortably between his shoulder blades.

“I don’t care,” says Steve.

Bucky doesn’t either, really. Steve’s statement was ambiguous, and even if it weren’t, it gives Bucky the same thrill it seems to give Steve any time either of them gets to mention they have children together. Besides, if anyone investigates they’ll find everything checks out, legally speaking.

Still, they have careers to consider, if nothing else.

“Other people care.”

“Let ’em,” says Steve. He opens the passenger door and makes a chivalrous sweeping gesture. “Your ride, Mr. Carter.”

Bucky smirks.

“Why thank you, Mr. Carter.”

It’s a shame Peggy isn’t here to call them idiots. They’ll have to repeat the bit when they take her out this weekend.

“Mr. Peggy Carter,” Steve muses as he pulls onto the highway. “I really like the sound of that.”

Bucky groans.

“You’re going to make people start calling you that, aren’t you? That cadet created a monster.”

Steve laughs.

“Can you imagine the look on McElroy’s face?”

“I honestly can’t,” says Bucky, laughing too. “Please insist next time you’re at the Pentagon and take a picture for me.”

“Done.”

Steve reaches past the gearshift to take Bucky’s closest hand — the cybernetic one — and lift it to his mouth.

“I’d love to be Mr. Barnes too, you know,” he says softly against the metal knuckles.

“Yeah, I know,” says Bucky, meaning it; he still has moments of doubt — many — but now isn’t one of them. “And knowing it is enough. Besides, Mr. Peggy Carter really does suit you.”

“Both of us,” says Steve, kissing his hand again.

Bucky can’t disagree.


	2. The Star Spangled Man

**July, 1963**

“It doesn’t look like Papa,” says Ben, squinting up at the bronze statue of Captain America with an expression that suggests it’s done him a great personal offense.

“It’s not _really_ him,” says Michelle in the gently condescending tone that, in the months since her twelfth birthday, she’s taken to employing when imparting information to the twins. “It’s his alter ego, Captain America. It’s a rendering of the _feeling_ of Captain America, not of Pops physically. I’ve explained this, Benny.”

Bucky can’t blame Ben for not looking particularly satisfied with this explanation.

“It doesn’t look like Papa,” he repeats stubbornly.

“You’re right, bud,” says Nate quickly, as Michelle impatiently opens her mouth again. “But you have to remember Pops wasn’t an old man when they made this.”

 _Or alive,_ Bucky thinks, but they try to mention that part of Steve’s history as little as possible in front of the kids, especially the six-year-old twins, so he just says, “Watch who you’re calling ‘old’, pal.”

“Yeah, because if I’m old, he’s ancient,” says Steve with a grin.

“Slander!” says Bucky in mock outrage.

“You’re closer to fifty than forty,” Steve reminds him.

This has been Steve’s standard tease since Bucky turned forty-five over a year ago, replacing its forebearer, “You’re closer to forty-five than forty,” and it would probably bother Bucky coming from anyone else, but he understands Steve’s fixation on his age isn’t about irritating Bucky as much as comforting _himself_. Steve needs the frequent reassurance that Bucky will almost certainly live through half a century and beyond after twice thinking he’d barely made it past a quarter.

“So are you, man!” Bucky retorts, though it’s not quite true in more ways than one. Steve may, technically, have been born a few days shy of forty-five years ago, but his mind’s only been conscious for thirty-four, and his body seems to be aging more slowly still (so does Bucky’s, when it comes to it, but he put a bullet in that part of his past eighteen years ago and burned the remains, and he has no intention of ever sifting through those ashes).

“Not for a few more days,” Steve counters.

“As long as we agree I’m still in the prime of my youth,” Peggy cuts in teasingly. “Bethany, it’s not a jungle gym!” she adds sharply.

Beth lets go of the bottom of the bronze shield and drops safely to her feet, indignation written clearly on the sharp lines of her lightly freckled face. Like her older sister at the same age, Beth has an alarming habit of attempting to scale the highest object in her vicinity.

“I had an eye on her,” Bucky, Steve, and Nate all say at once. In Bucky’s case it’s mostly a lie — not because he’s not mindful of his daughter’s safety but because he implicitly trusts Nate to ensure it.

“Benny’s right,” Beth declares. “On the plaque it says Papa’s name above _Captain America_ , so it should look more like him.” She shrugs. “Maybe the person who made it just wasn’t very good.”

Bucky exchanges amused glances with Peggy and Steve.

“I think that’s probably it,” he says. He lifts Beth onto his shoulders; a few feet away, Steve copies him with Ben. “Come on. There are more interesting things to see around here than bad sculptures of Pops.”

“Basically everything,” says Michelle.

“Yeah, who needs a sculpture when you have the real thing, right?” says Nate, swinging an arm around Michelle’s shoulders as they walk away.

Bucky meets Peggy’s eyes, then Steve’s.

“Exactly.”


	3. Sins of the Father

**October, 1953**

“Dorothy agreed to watch Michelle this week so Ana can focus on her lot while they recover,” Peggy tells Bucky as she enters the living room. All three Jarvis kids are currently down with the flu. “So she’ll go with you, and Nate will come to my office after school.”

“Perfect,” says Bucky, glancing up from his newspaper. “Thanks for arranging that.”

He goes back to the paper, expecting her to either sit down with him or else go off to the study or her bedroom. Instead she begins to move restlessly around the room, picking up various objects and discarding them with barely glance.

“Nate doesn’t get sick as often as other children, have you noticed?” she says after a minute or so.

“I guess,” says Bucky, careful not to show how nervous her agitation is making him.

“That’s understandable,” says Peggy. “A byproduct of his father’s enhanced genes, one would imagine.”

“Probably,” Bucky agrees without raising his eyes. She’s clearly trying to lead him somewhere, and knowing Peggy she’ll eventually succeed, but he’s not about to freely take a single step down a road he’s fairly certain he doesn’t want to tread.

“Yes,” says Peggy, finally coming to halt right in front of him. “Except Michelle rarely gets sick either.”

Bucky stills, keeping his expression as neutral as possible.

“You didn’t kill Zola just out of revenge, did you?” says Peggy, her voice deadly quiet.

Bucky meticulously folds up the paper and sets it on the table beside him before finally meeting her eyes.

“That was a big part of it.”

“Dammit, Bucky!” Peggy cries. “You lied to me! To all of us!”

“I didn’t lie,” Bucky protests. “I didn’t correct certain misconceptions, but I never outright lied.”

“Don’t try to be clever!”

“I didn’t know what Zola did to me until after I survived that fall. When the Soviets found me, I figured it out.”

“So you did lie. I asked you in the debrief how you survived and you told me you didn’t know.”

“I said I wasn’t sure.”

“A technicality!”

“But not an outright lie,” Bucky reminds her. “Zola confirmed it before I shot him. But no one ever directly asked me after that. You all just assumed Steve made a mistake, that the grief and adrenaline made him misjudge how far I fell.”

“You could have said something!”

“Why would I?” Bucky retorts. “You think the SSR would have thanked me for the information and sent me on my way? I don’t want to be a lab rat any more than I want my children to be.”

“And yet you still endangered Nate,” says Peggy. “I asked you to claim him so no one would know his father was a supersoldier. If anyone figured out what happened to you— if _Howard_ figured it out—”

“But he didn’t,” says Bucky. “The only reason you figured it out is because you know the truth about Nate. You know how to compare him to Michelle, but Howard doesn’t. And even if he did somehow realize what I am, it would still protect Nate. What Zola did to me wasn’t the same thing as Project Rebirth. It wasn’t Erskine’s formula, and that’s what Howard and the military really want. Nate’s the closest to a key for that they’ll ever get, but they have no reason to suspect that. As long as they think all they’d get from him is half of what they already have in me, he’s safe. You know I’d give myself over to Howard and anyone else before I let them lay a finger on either of the kids.”

Peggy nods slightly.

“It’s true silencing Zola was a factor when I decided to assassinate him,” Bucky admits. “I didn’t want him exposing me. But he wasn’t dangerous to just me. He was too brilliant for the government to leave locked up, unutilized. I couldn’t let them free him.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!”

“You should be glad I did,” Bucky snaps. “You’re afraid Howard might figure out the truth? If anyone could, it was Zola. And he’d do a lot worse to Nate than Howard ever would.”

“You didn’t know about Nate when you murdered him,” Peggy points out.

“No, I didn’t. But I’m not sorry for the choice I made. Even less so knowing it protects my kids. And you shouldn’t be either.”

“I can’t pretend not to understand the sentiment behind it,” says Peggy in a gentler tone.

“I should have told you the truth when you first came to me,” Bucky concedes. “But Pegs, you were part of the SSR. I didn’t…” he trails off, not wanting to say it.

“You didn’t trust me,” Peggy finishes softly.

Bucky gives a slight shrug.

“Can you blame me?”

Peggy’s mouth twists into a wry smile.

“Not really.”

She sinks onto the sofa beside him, all fight and fire gone.

“Did Steve know?” she asks finally.

Bucky shakes his head.

“I never told anyone what happened while I was captured. And he never—” his throat tightens. _He never asked._

It’s a truth he’s never examined. Never wanted to.

Peggy covers his hand with hers.

“I’m sure he didn’t want to make you relive it,” she says gently.

“Yeah, maybe.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter now.”

She squeezes his hand and he convulsively squeezes back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he whispers.

Her head drops onto his shoulder.

“I suppose, circumstances being what they were, I understand why you didn’t,” she says. “But no more lies of omission, all right? No more secrets. Not between us.”

He nods once, just a small movement of his cheek against the softness of her hair.

“No more secrets.”

It’s a relief to mean it for once.


	4. Paternity

**May, 1962**

Bucky hates when Steve and Peggy are away, especially at the same time — although it helps when, like this time, they’re safely politicking in DC instead of off on a mission that could get them killed — but he can still appreciate evenings like this: the twins peacefully asleep in their room; Michelle pretending to be the same but almost certainly reading the latest issue of the _Agent Carter_ comics she thinks her parents’ don’t know about by flashlight under her covers; and Bucky and Nate sitting in comfortable silence as they peruse their respective books on opposite ends of the living room couch.

“Dad?” Nate’s voice is full of hesitation. “You, uh… you know I love you, right?”

“Of course,” says Bucky, startled. He glances up with a bemused smile. “I love you too, pal.”

“I just… it’s important to me that you know that before I…” Nate trails off, looking uncomfortable.

“Hey,” says Bucky, setting down his book and leaning forward. “If you’re in some kind of trouble, you can tell me. We’ll figure it out, okay? I won’t be mad.”

“I know,” says Nate. “I know, it’s— it’s not that.”

“Okay,” says Bucky. “Then what—”

“Is Steve my dad?” The words tumble together in a rush.

Bucky stiffens, considering his answer. He could play dumb, pretend not to understand the question. Nate’s been calling Steve “Pops” for years now, ever since the twins started talking, because it’s just easier to use the same label as his siblings, and Steve’s been filling a paternal role in all four kids’ lives ever since he was revived six years ago.

“Because I know he and Mom were together all through the war,” Nate continues quietly before Bucky can decide on a response. “And I did the math.”

“Okay,” says Bucky, momentarily relieved to have a sliver of truth to latch onto. “Okay, yes, we got married because we found out your mom was pregnant with you.”

“Right,” says Nate. “But that doesn’t mean _you_ got her pregnant.”

Well. He’s always been a smart kid.

Just like his parents.

“Nate,” says Bucky gently, “if you’ve considered that possibility, you must have also realized why we would have kept it a secret.”

“Captain America can’t have biological kids,” says Nate. “They’d be too valuable. Too much of a target. That’s why the twins have to be yours.”

“The twins _are_ mine,” says Bucky firmly. They’ve never fully explained their arrangement to the kids, for more or less the same reason they’ve never told Nate the truth about his paternity. Even necessary secrets are burdens; and plausible deniability is one hell of a shield.

“Of course,” says Nate slowly, his eyes narrowing. “They could be.”

“If you’re implying your mom—”

“Not just her.”

“Nate—”

“Dad, please. I’m sixteen and I’m not blind.”

Bucky stills. Then he says very quietly, “How long have you known?”

Nate shrugs.

“Since forever, I think,” he says. “At least since Steve came back. And I don’t care, I’m glad, I love our family and I’m happy for all of you, that’s not— it’s not my point—”

“No.” Bucky sighs. “It’s not.”

“So I’m right,” says Nate. “About Steve being—”

“No, I’m trying to tell you that you can’t ever be right about this,” says Bucky. “Plausible deniability. We’re protecting you.”

“Okay, I get that,” says Nate. “But… off the record for a second — why’d you do it?”

“I just told you: we’re protecting you.”

“No.” Nate shakes his head. “Why’d _you_ do it?”

“You’re my son,” says Bucky. “You’ve been my son since you took your first breath.”

“I _know_ ,” says Nate. “But you married Mom seven months before that. Why?”

“You know why.”

“Because of Steve. Because you love him,” says Nate softly. “Because you’ve always loved him.”

Bucky closes his eyes. He’s always known this conversation was inevitable and still somehow hoped he would never, ever have to have it.

“I don’t expect you to understand. Honestly, pal, I— I hope to _god_ you’ll never understand. What I— what it was like when I found out he—” Bucky’s voice breaks. It’s been seventeen years — and Steve’s been back and sleeping beside him for the last six of them — but Bucky remembers the anguish of his loss as sharply as the moment it happened. “And then your mom told me a piece of him survived.”

Nate’s expression softens.

“Didn’t that make it harder?”

“It did sometimes,” Bucky admits. “You’re so much like him. And yet…”

“I’m not him.”

“No,” Bucky agrees. “That was the hard part, at first. But even before we found him… I did it for him. But I stayed for you. I love you for who you are, not for who your father is.”

Nate reaches over and pulls him into a hug.

“I love you too, Dad,” he says into Bucky’s shoulder. “No matter what.”

Bucky’s arms tighten convulsively as he turns his head and presses a kiss to his son’s temple, like he used to when he was small. He’s more man now than boy, seemingly overnight. How could the interminable years without Steve have also been so fleeting?

“Does he know?” Nate asks as they pull apart.

“Yeah, we told him pretty soon after he woke up,” says Bucky. “It wouldn’t have taken him long to figure out on his own.”

“So he knew when he met me,” says Nate slowly. “That must have been hard. I was so mean to him at first.”

“Were you?” Bucky remembers Nate was a little standoffish, but not outright hostile or cruel. “He never said anything.”

Nate gives a small shrug.

“I was just being protective. I didn’t want him to hurt you again.”

A lump rises in Bucky’s throat.

“I appreciate that, pal. But you know he never hurt me deliberately, right?”

“Yeah,” says Nate. “I knew it then, too. He just… didn’t worry about you. That’s why I had to.”

Bucky swallows.

“That’s not your job, pal,” he says softly.

“Why not?” says Nate stubbornly. “You’re my dad, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am,” says Bucky. “Always. And it’s _my_ job to protect _you_ , not the other way around. Remember?”

“I remember,” says Nate. “And no offense, Dad, but that’s bullshit.”

A surprised laugh bursts from Bucky before he can register it.

“You really are your father’s son.”

“I’m all three of my parents’ son,” says Nate. He grins. “Probably why I’m so awesome.”

Bucky laughs again.

“No doubt.” He pauses. “You gonna be okay?”

Nate nods.

“Course,” he says. “I’ve suspected for a while. But… can we keep this between us for now? I don’t want Pops getting weird.”

“Absolutely,” says Bucky. “Whatever you need.”

Nate smiles.

“Thanks. And just so you know, I wish you hadn’t had to go through all that but… I’m actually really glad things worked out the way they did. I just mean… I’m glad I get to have you as my dad.”

Bucky pulls him into another hug, blinking furiously against the tears pricking the corners of his eyes. It’s not the first time he’s reflected that maybe the agony of living all those years without Steve was worth it.

But it is the first time he’s fully believed it.


	5. And They All Lived Happily...

**May, 1970**

“So it’s official,” says Howard, grinning, as he hops out of the helicopter. “You’re going to be a grandfather before I’m a father.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I was really hoping your kid would show up early,” he grumbles as they set off after the twins, who have already disappeared into the stairwell. “An overly optimistic expectation for a Stark, I admit.”

“Ha!” Howard’s grin widens. “You’re officially elderly and I’m still living my best life.”

“I’m only five months older than you,” Bucky protests.

“Still older.”

“Fine, but becoming a father in your fifties doesn’t make you not old,” says Bucky. “It just makes you an old dad. And are you actually living your best life? Because I’m not the one who’ll be getting woken up by a crying baby at 3AM.”

Howard grimaces.

“Don’t remind me.”

“ _Please_.” Beth’s voice floats up to them from at least a flight down, dripping with disparagement. “ _As if_ Uncle Howard’s going to be getting up with a crying baby.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m usually already up at 3AM,” says Howard indignantly, but then he adds quietly enough for only Bucky to hear, “But she’s right, I’m not gonna be dealing with all that nonsense.”

“The nonsense of keeping your baby alive?” says Bucky.

“You sound like Jarvis,” Howard huffs. “I’m not gonna leave it to fend for itself! I’m hiring staff!”

“How paternal,” says Bucky dryly.

“If you were a baby, who would you rather have taking care of you: me or a professional?”

This is a better point than Bucky wants to admit, so he just presses his lips together in an expression of wry disapproval he undoubtedly picked up from Peggy years ago.

“Exactly,” says Howard, correctly interpreting his silence.

“Dad, hurry up!” Ben snaps, running back up the stairs toward them, Beth on his heels. “I’m becoming an uncle and I’m _missing it_!”

“I don’t think she’s gonna let you in the room, buddy,” says Bucky, patting his son’s shoulder sympathetically even though he doubts Ben would actually enjoy being in the room in the first place. “Come on, it’s through here.”

He leads them out of the stairwell and into the brightly lit waiting area of the maternity ward, where Steve and Michelle pause their pacing to look over at them.

“Where’d Caleb go?” Bucky asks.

“He had to run to the PX because he already ran out of film,” says Michelle, rolling her eyes. “But I told him he better hurry. It won’t be long now.”

As if to confirm this, the door to the birthing room opens and Morita steps out.

“I got kicked out,” he tells them. “It’s starting.”

“How’s Robin?” Steve asks.

Morita shrugs a little shakily, and Bucky notices how pale he is.

“You know,” says Morita with forced lightness. “It’s, uh, not the most pleasant experience.”

Bucky squeezes his shoulder.

“She’s gonna be fine,” he says bracingly. “She’s strong, man.”

Morita gives a jerky nod.

Time slows to a crawl. Bucky and Morita join Steve and Michelle in the pacing. Ben pulls a large tome about biochemistry out of his backpack and begins to peruse it, while Beth sketches beside him. Howard returns to the roof for a cigarette (“Those things’ll kill you,” Bucky warns, but Howard just grins: “Something has to.”). Caleb finally returns with fresh film for his camera.

“Shouldn’t it be over by now?” Bucky finally bursts out, nerves frayed to the breaking point.

Ben glances at his watch.

“It’s been eleven minutes.”

“No it hasn’t!” Steve and Bucky say incredulously.

“Sorry,” says Ben, shrugging.

Bucky resumes his pacing. After what feels like several more hours, the door finally opens and Peggy emerges.

Everyone freezes. Steve’s hand latches onto Bucky’s. Normally Bucky would object in such a public place, even if it is just their family around, but right now he doesn’t give a shit.

“Well?” he breathes.

Peggy beams.

“We have a grandson.”

_Grandson…_

“A boy?” says Morita shakily.

Peggy nods, smiling.

“A boy,” she confirms. “Come meet him. Grandfathers first,” she adds, as Michelle, Caleb, Ben, and Beth surge forward. “We don’t want to overwhelm Robin.”

Bucky slips into the room with Morita and Steve, Steve’s hand still tightly gripping his. Nate, Dorothy, and Joan are gathered at the head of the bed, gazing down at Robin and the bundle of blankets in her arms.

“You okay, kid?” Morita asks as they approach.

Robin looks up, wearing the exhausted but blissful expression Bucky remembers seeing on Peggy after each time she’d given birth.

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Tired,” she adds with a little laugh, “but happy.” Her eyes move to Bucky. “You want to hold him, Buck?”

“I—” Bucky’s voice cracks slightly — “yeah, of course, but are you sure I—” but Nate’s already taken the baby from Robin and started moving toward him, so Bucky quickly pulls out of Steve’s grasp so he can take the baby in his arms. “Wow,” he breathes as he gazes down at the face of his first grandchild. “He’s beautiful, pal.”

Peggy leans her head against his arm and places a hand atop his where it supports the baby’s tiny head; Steve hooks his chin over Bucky’s other shoulder to get a look, hands grazing his waist.

“He’s amazing,” he murmurs in Bucky’s ear. “What’s his name?”

“The only thing it could be,” says Nate softly, looking right at Bucky. “James.”

Bucky leans back into the solidness of Steve’s chest, lost for words.

“For his grandfathers,” Nate clarifies, as though worried Bucky didn’t make the connection.

Steve’s arms loop firmly around Bucky’s waist, steadying him. Peggy squeezes his fingers. From where he’s joined Dorothy and Joan at the head of the bed, Morita catches Bucky’s eye and smiles.

“I love it,” says Steve when the silence hangs a little too long.

“James Steven,” Nate adds, eyes flicking to Steve.

“James,” Steve repeats, brushing off the middle name. “It’s perfect.”

“Dad?” A note of uncertainty enters Nate’s voice as his gaze shifts to Bucky again.

“I— sorry, it’s just—” Bucky swallows thickly. “Thank you.”

“No,” says Nate softly, “thank _you_ , Dad.”

“You okay?” asks Steve, just a whisper against the shell of Bucky’s ear, as Nate turns to check on Robin again.

Bucky nods slowly.

“Yeah. I just really love our family, that’s all.”

“ _Our_ family,” Steve echoes, with a relish that hasn’t diminished in fourteen years. “Me too.”

“And me,” Peggy agrees, pressing closer to him.

Bucky looks down again at the closed eyes, the tuft of dark hair, the tiny chest peacefully rising and falling.

_James._

Another child with his name and Steve’s genes. Another child to protect. Another secret to keep.

With Steve behind him and Peggy beside him, it doesn’t feel like the unbearable, herculean task it did a quarter of a century ago. It feels doable, even easy. Even enjoyable.

Even like a happy ending.


	6. ...Ever After

**September, 1972**

“Tell me a story,” James demands when Bucky, Steve, and Peggy tuck him in. He’s staying with them for the weekend while his parents prepare for the imminent arrival of his younger sibling.

“Absolutely, darling,” says Peggy. “What do you want to hear?”

“The one about the lost prince,” says James at once.

Bucky, Steve, and Peggy exchange blank looks.

“Lost prince?” Bucky repeats, in case they misunderstood; toddler diction leaves much to be desired.

“The lost prince and the knight and the general,” says James impatiently.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” says Steve. “We don’t know that one.”

“But Daddy tells it every night!” James wails. “It’s my favorite!”

“Hey, hey, pal, listen,” says Bucky quickly as James’s face begins to screw up in preparation for an epic meltdown, “why don’t you tell the story to us?”

James’s expression freezes and Bucky braces himself.

“Okay,” James concedes after a moment, sniffling a little.

“Okay,” says Bucky, glancing at Steve and Peggy, who look just as relieved as he feels.

James nestles back into his pillows. Peggy draws the blankets up to his chin before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Bucky beside her; Steve remains standing, a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Once upon a time,” James begins, words already beginning to slur with sleep, “there were two boys who loved each other more than anything…”


End file.
